


Down

by IsaiahVirus



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Daddy Issues, Hmm., M/M, being put into place, coven hierarchy, it's a previously discussed arrangement, only kind of noncon, they fuck in an alley sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaiahVirus/pseuds/IsaiahVirus
Summary: Carlisle has to put Jasper in his place but like in a sexy way.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	Down

**Author's Note:**

> [inspired by this](https://rawmejasper.tumblr.com/post/618670057641377792/im-just-gonna-say-it-the-fact-that-smeyer-tried) ya know, daddy sanctioned murder time

Jasper had got there first. Before Edward. James had managed to take a chunk out of Bella before he was thrown off by Jasper.

By the time Edward and company arrived James was already a smoldering pile of varnished studio flooring and vampire ash. Jasper hadn’t even thought about the fact that Bella was bleeding out across the floor, venom blistering through her veins. 

Jasper hadn’t even noticed the thirst, the itching, scratching need for blood that features prominently when in Bella’s presence. The blood just added to the atmosphere of ferality. Jasper rarely feels so at home. 

Of course there was only James. Soon Bella would turn and he’d have to deal with another newborn if Edward didn’t find it in himself to suck out the venom. His indecision was clouding the air in a thick and nauseating fog, grating. 

Before he could move to force Edward into making a decision, a very firm hand grasped him by the back of his neck. 

“Stay.” A cool command. The fighter inside Jasper wanted to disobey but the part of him that promised surrender to Carlisle wins. He stills but the fever for violence still rages under his skin. Carlisle knows it won’t abate until Jasper is beat into submission. With an exaggerated strength he pulls Jasper with him out into the dry heat of Phoenix. 

There hadn’t been time for them to check into a hotel so the nearest dark alley was going to have to do. Jasper needed to be brought to heel before he would be allowed to interact with the rest of the family, especially Bella. 

Carlisle pushed Jasper into the shadows and heard a growl before Jasper surged back at him. Carlisle caught his head between his hands and shoved his face into the brick wall. Jasper shook out his hair, red brick ash haloing in the weak street light. A predatory glint entered his eye before lunging at Carlisle again. 

Carlisle caught Jasper bodily before throwing him to the ground with enough force to cave the asphalt in. Carlisle followed him down, pinning Jasper to the ground, hands above his head.

“Submit.”

A snarl, “Never.”

Carlisle leaned in, chest to chest, scraping his teeth over the very white column of Jasper’s throat. Jasper’s attempt to buck him off was unsuccessful. 

“Whitlock.” Jasper stills under him. “Focus.”

Carlisle nips at one of the scars crossing his first rib. Jasper stutters below him, bringing their bodies into better alignment. Now they’re getting somewhere. 

Carlisle started to gently place kisses up the column of his throat. Jasper, warming up to the activity, felt the need for battle start to drain away and a need for something else take over. Jasper let the taste of Carlisle’s lust tinge over and bleed through him. 

He renewed the struggle to free his hands, wanting and needing to touch Carlisle. To share in the flesh. 

Carlisle had long since lost his jacket and scarf. Jasper’s shirt was shredded in the fight and Carlisle spared barely a thought to finishing the job. Carlisle scrapped across his war torn chest, eliciting a loud whine as Jasper curled up into the abuse. 

Jasper still hadn’t lost the feral shine. Carlisle knew he would have to completely subdue him, there could be no chance of the man that would return to the family. Major Whitlock needed to be muzzled and chained. 

Carlisle drew back up to Jasper’s collar, placing a light kiss before sinking his teeth into moissanite skin. A scar he’s placed a hundred times before and is unafraid to place again. It’s the clearest and most defined mark on him. Carlisle is deceptively possessive. 

He eases off Jasper’s hips, undoing a belt buckle and pulling his jeans down just enough. Carlisle forces Jasper over, taking hold of his hair and driving his face into the ground. Jasper did not struggle.

Feeling secure in Jasper’s concession Carlisle began to undo his own buttons, mindful of the location of this encounter, only undressing as much as needed. 

This wouldn’t be gentle, it never was. Carlisle would shed the human skin and let his carefully obfuscated jagged edges out, letting the dissonance smooth a human veil over Jasper. 

As often as this happened, Carlisle never bothered to prepare. To be gentle would undermine the whole affair. Jasper had to hurt to become human-like again, had to be kicked like a dog to behave, be put in his place.

Carlisle enjoyed these encounters the way a serrated edge enjoys flesh, with a tattered sense of identity. His hands shoved under Jasper’s skin, demanding unquestioning obedience. An unapologetic roughness as his first finger breached, avoiding the ideals of pleasure. 

Preparation takes seconds, a formality more for Carlisle’s comfort than Jasper’s. Carlisle pushes a hand into the center of Jasper’s back, compressing his spine. Ostensibly for stability. 

It’s simplistic instinct to align himself to Jasper and with a violent thrust he’s viciously engulfed. If vampires could bleed, Jasper would be. But they are no longer human, haven’t been for millennia. Jasper howls at the indignity but it’s quieter than it could have been. 

Carlisle sets a quick pace. Punishing and without remorse. Jasper needs the push but the fall is all his own. Jasper hits the ground abruptly. The lines of tension crossing him softening to need. 

Jasper mewls into the rough ground, suddenly sensitive and in his own skin. 

Carlisle does not let up, the ends will justify the means.

Time slows and bends around them, an anomaly in the constants of the Phoenix night. They lack heat and thus do not belong. The pallor of the skin is not the bleach of the sun. They do not belong here. 

Jasper has been arching back into Carlisle’s quick thrusts, finally seeing what he needs, relinquishing control to his master. Carlisle nurtures this deference, slowing, aiming for pleasure. He finds it with a practiced ease, experience has taught him exactly how Jasper likes his hair pulled, the cadence he likes his prostate hit with, the pattern to scrape into his skin. 

Jasper comes in a quiet revolution, evicting his truer nature into the muzzy night air. Carlisle maintains the brutality he’s cultivated for Jasper until he too comes. 

There’s no need to breathe and they don’t. Human facades can be replaced later. Carlisle withdraws himself, wiping the venom on Jasper’s ruined jacket. He reasserts the hand in Jasper’s hair, “Who do you belong to?”

“You.” 

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm @rawmejasper on tumblr for twilight stuff and I'm vaguely in charge of the Jasper Fuckers United (#JFU) group. Come hang


End file.
